


Hocus Pocus: Halloween Tasertricks Drabbles

by whatcolourmyeyes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcolourmyeyes/pseuds/whatcolourmyeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple Tasertricks prompts I received on tumblr...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pumpkins and Pettiness

**Author's Note:**

> “Darcy teaches Loki the fine art of pumpkin carving. Bonus points if it includes Loki being completely grossed out by the pumpkin guts” for concavepatterns

“Loki, for the last time, stop playing Fruit Ninja with that squash!” Darcy yells. “At this rate we won’t have any pumpkins left for the decorations.”

“I was amusing myself,” Loki complains, lowering what remains of the poor gourd back onto the counter. Darcy ignores his attempt at puppy dog eyes, silently vowing to make Jane pay for sticking her on babysitting duty on _Halloween_ of all nights. Her hands are covered in sticky pumpkin juices because Loki was too much of a wimp to soil his own princely hands, her hair is falling in her face, and Darcy can feel the beginnings of a headache setting in… and it’s not even six yet.

“Need I ask why you would do something so inane as to use vegetables as party decorations?”

_Oh, shut up, Loki._

“No, you _needn’t_ ask. And pumpkins are technically fruits, Smartypants.” Loki doesn’t appear to care about the distinction. “Oh for Pete’s sake, Loki, sit your ass down.”

Darcy grumbles to herself about the idea of higher civilizations failing to celebrate All Hallows’ Eve as she rifles through the cutlery drawer, searching for the carving kit.

Loki gingerly lowers himself onto the floor, sniffing in disgust at the two disembowelled squashes. The kitchen floor is a graveyard of pumpkin guts, and he casually flicks one hand, sending the whole mess flying into the compost bin.

“Ah-ha!” Darcy announces, brandishing a garishly orange utensil that looks to Loki like some kind of torture device. Grabbing a couple markers from the counter, Darcy joins Loki on the tiled floor, the protective layer of newspaper crinkling as she leans forward. “This is where the fun begins,” she says conspiratorially, uncapping a marker and marking the beginnings of a smiley face onto her jack-o-lantern.

“I was _having_ fun, Miss Lewis. And you had to ruin it.”

“Using pumpkins as target practice is not on Jane’s list of approved Halloween activities,” Darcy hisses. She wishes she were making this shit up: Jane had literally written her a list on a yellow Post-It note before rushing out the door to greet her date. “Now get that pumpkin carved before I tell on you.”

Loki mutters something about it being foolish and pointless, and cursing in what’s probably Norse, before being silenced by a pointed look from Darcy. He rolls his eyes, but picks up a marker and begins lightly tracing a design out onto the offensive _thing_ sitting across from him.

_Finally, peace and quiet._ Darcy picks up a tiny carving saw to etch around her pumpkin’s smile. When she glances at Loki, he has taken on a look of deep concentration, and Darcy’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“What’re you drawing?” Loki wordlessly angles his pumpkin further away from her, and Darcy smirks to herself as he carefully picks up a knife and makes a couple short strokes. “Is it a surprise?” she prompts, returning to carving her own pumpkin – she’s decided to name him ‘Bob’ – her tongue sticking out as she tries to make everything as symmetrical as possible

“Miss Lewis,” Loki grumbles stiffly. “I am trying to focus.” _And your tongue sticking out like that isn’t helping_ , he doesn’t add.

“Right. Of course.”

They settle back into silence.

“Finally! All done!” Darcy exclaims, grabbing a tea light and plopping it into her completed jack-o-lantern. Its face is a little lopsided, giving it the appearance of being drunk (or carved by a drunk person, which sadly is not the case – something Darcy will soon be remedying). “You finished?”

Loki nods curtly, and Darcy hands him a tea light and a match.

Once both candles are flickering happily, Darcy turns off the overhead lights and turns back to take in the fruits of their labours (ha!).

“Oh, of _course_ you carved out horns,” she laughs. “Why am I not surprised?”

“And what is that supposed to be?” Loki responds, pointing at her pumpkin.

“Hey, don’t insult Bob.” Darcy’s breath catches as she feels Loki move a little closer, his leather jacket brushing against her back. “You did a good- a good job,” she says, her voice breathier than normal. He smells like smoke and mint and ever so slightly like pumpkin.

“Happy Halloween, Miss Lewis,” he murmurs.

Darcy turns to face him – _holy shit, he’s close_ – and grabs the collar of his jacket in both hands, pulling him closer. And then the doorbell rings.

“Trick or treat!”

Darcy officially hates children.


	2. The Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Darcy and Loki go to an Avengers costume party, dressed as each other. Hijinks ensue. ;)” for mischiefgoddesscomplex

_Well, Lewis, you definitely don’t get points for subtlety._

Darcy looks at her reflection one last time, nervously adjusting the gold horns on her head one last time before sighing and swallowing her doubts. _Now or never, Darce._ Flashing a hesitant smile at the hall mirror, she brushes her hair out of her face and pushes the door onto Stark’s living room open. She’s immediately enveloped by the steady thumping of dubstep. Stark clearly went all out: she’s pretty sure that Skrillex himself is in the corner, and the tiles of the dance floor below her have been engineered to change colour under the moving bodies. A red trail lights up behind her as she makes her way toward the bar, her footsteps stuttering when she catches sight of Loki leaning against the counter, moodily nursing a shot of something clear and likely high in alcohol. Thor is standing beside him, dressed as Aladdin. (Jane’s idea, after marathoning all her favourite Disney movies last week.)

“Nice costume,” Tasha says from behind her black cat mask, walking up to Darcy and handing her a cup of punch. “You wear it better than he does,” she adds, looping an arm through Darcy’s and tugging her closer to the bar.

“Whoa, Darcy!”

Loki doesn’t turn around at her entrance, but his jaw clenches as he watches Stark out of the corner of his eye. He’s taking longer to appreciate that green dress than Loki believes is strictly necessary. There’s no question that Darcy looks beautiful; the dress is fitted to the waist, with a plunging neckline and gold piping reminiscent of his formal Asgardian armour.

The rest of the Avengers are showering her with compliments, and Darcy turns beet red as she gulps down more punch – it’s sickeningly sweet, and it burns slightly – and tries not to think about whether or not Loki has seen her, and whether he likes what he sees.

“Hey, Mischief,” she whispers, once Tasha has dragged the others onto the dance floor. Clint is proudly teaching Thor the Lawnmower, while Jane and Bruce are more bobbing their heads to the music. (Stark has gone off to find Pepper.)

Loki throws his head back and downs the rest of his drink.

“Trick or treat, Miss Lewis?” he asks suddenly, a grin spreading across his face.

“Trick,” Darcy answers quickly, before she has the chance to think it through.

“Good choice,” he smirks. “You wear my colours well… but perhaps I should return the favour for this dubious honour.”

“It was- I’m sorry, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Oh, it was an excellent idea, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy coughs at the sudden puff of smoke – _always so dramatic_ – and starts as she looks back to find a second Darcy Lewis staring back at her. Usual fuzzy sweater, scuffed Converse and all.

“Impressed?” Loki/Darcy asks, and Darcy hopes to God that she never sees her face make that expression _ever_ again. Darcy isn’t nearly narcissistic enough to find any smirk on her own face to be panty-dropping. “Now, I believe it’s time for me to enjoy the party.”

“Loki, don’t-” Before Darcy can stop him (her?), Loki has stepped into the swaying mass of bodies on the dance floor. “Okay, seriously?”

Darcy spends the rest of her evening on damage control, doing more harm than good. Darcy has to forcibly pull her simulacrum away from Ian before Loki says or does anything stupid, but the sight of Darcy wrestling a second Darcy back to the bar is more than enough to successfully remove him from the ‘potential boyfriend’ pool. Not that he was an option. Loki could be so jealous sometimes. (Most of the time, really.)

It takes her the better part of an hour to find him again, at which point he’s found one of Darcy’s exes from HR. It hadn’t been an amicable break-up, and based on Loki’s rant, he knew it, too. _Great. I’m never gonna live that one down._

She swiftly drags Loki into the hallway, the benefit of his new form being that he is her size for once, and therefore easier to push around.

“Alright, listen up, Frosty,” Darcy hisses. “What do I have to do to make you switch back? Preferably before you ruin my chances with _every_ guy in there.”

“You could remove that costume,” Loki replies, his voice deepening as the illusion dissolves. His black hair is slicked back, his eyes wide and dark.

Darcy bites her lip subconsciously.

“Or you could take it off,” she answers.

For a split second he doesn’t say anything, and Darcy worries that she’s seriously miscalculated, but that moment is all it takes for Loki’s mouth to descend upon hers, his tongue flicking between her lips as he walks them forward, trapping her between his lean body and the wall.

“You are delicious,” Loki whispers against her lips.

“’nough talking,” Darcy answers, greedily tugging his lips back toward hers. Her arms wrap around his neck while his hands land at her waist, lifting her up. Her skirt is hitched up as he pulls her even closer, settling between her thighs. Loki begins to grind himself against her, smirking at the quiet keening sounds Darcy is making.

“Trick or treat?” he  asks, his voice ragged.

Darcy tangles her hands in his hair as he begins to trail kisses along the column of her throat.

“Treat,” she gasps.

It’s the right answer.


	3. Halloween Haunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got this prompt this morning but decided to write something short anyway... "The Avengers and Darcy and Loki Go To A Halloween Haunt!! Possessive Loki? Scared Darcy?"

Darcy releases a steady stream of expletives under her breath as she walks through the darkened hall. The ‘exit’ sign seems too far away, and the darkness makes it impossible to tell if she’s alone or not. The cheesy ‘spooky’ soundtrack is actually a little terrifying when you’re surrounded by smoke and there are zero light sources asides from the artificial glow slipping through the cracks of the floorboards.

_‘Let’s go to a haunted house.’ Yeah, what a fantastic idea, Tony. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic._

Darcy feels someone – something? – tap her on the shoulder and she shrieks, jumping backwards and landing hard against the tall Norse God standing behind her.

“Miss Lewis, what are you doing?”

_Of course it was Loki._

“Jerk,” Darcy mutters, once her breathing has returned to normal. Figures that he’d be skulking around, calm as ever. _Damn Stark for making us come out here._ She’s been able to hear Tasha and Clint laughing their way up the staircase – it’s a little creepy, to be honest – and Jane and Thor probably ran off to make out in some corner. Darcy hasn’t seen Tony or Bruce, but knowing them, they’ve already gotten out of there.

“What?” he asks innocently. _Too innocently._

“You _know_ I’m scared by these things.”

“Miss Lewis, there is nothing to be afraid of. After all, I’m here,” he murmurs in her ear.

“Right, my very own knight in shining armour.” Darcy rolls her eyes, but startles again when Loki throws a hand out, pulling her closer to his chest. She lets out a high-pitched squeak. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“Stark,” Loki bites out grimly. His fingers are wrapped around someone’s wrist, and Darcy huddles a little closer against him, one hand inching under the warmth of his jacket. Her shoulders untense at the sudden burst telltale laughter coming from the darkness.

“Well, Reindeer Games,” Tony grins as Loki releases his grip. “You got me.”

“I believe, Stark, that you should get going before Miss Lewis exacts her revenge.” Loki wraps an arm around Darcy’s waist possessively, and Tony slowly backs up, his hands in the air.

“Tony,” Darcy growls, her heart still beating rabbit-fast. “You have ten seconds.”

“Okay, okay…”

“And Bruce, too,” she adds. _No way they weren’t working together on this one._

An apologetic Bruce Banner walks to Tony’s side, trying to cover up his own quiet amusement. Darcy looks daggers at both of them as they make their way back down the stairs, the intensity of her gaze diminished by the fact that she’s still a little frightened. Every nerve in her body is on edge, and she trembles when Loki gently brushes some hair out of her eyes.

“Shall we get out of here?” he asks.

“Why are you being nice all of a sudden?” Darcy asks suspiciously.

“I’m not particularly fond of spending my evenings in decrepit old hovels when there are other much more enjoyable things I could be doing, and much better ways I could make you scream…”

Darcy gulps. Holy shit, Mischief is propositioning her in a haunted house. And, even more surprisingly, she wants to say yes.

“Scream? You seem to think pretty highly of yourself… I’d have to see it to believe it,” she challenges.

Loki grins.

“Agreed.”


End file.
